


What Happens on Vacation

by Imogen_Penn



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:06:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imogen_Penn/pseuds/Imogen_Penn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She shouted his name as she arced against him, and Clint thought of the first time he had picked up a bow, that same feeling of fit and tension</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens on Vacation

**Author's Note:**

> Smut. Nonsensical and pointless smut. Also, some sex pollen. Yes. Seriously. Sorry.

It was supposed to be a goddam vacation.

When Clint had been tagged to track Jane Foster on her vacation to Hawaii, he had been the envy of…well, Natasha. Both of them knew with Thor’s lady love on the line, it was going to be one of them, not anyone from the regular surveillance pool. A week in Hawaii with low priority targets. Beautiful.

The file on Jane’s friend Darcy had even been a good read. Pretty girl. He remembered seeing her in New Mexico once or twice. Based on the information he had, Darcy didn’t have much to do with the superhero set these days, but friends with that level of security clearance were hard to come by, and she lived in the city, so she and Jane kept in touch. Bi-monthly nights out and phone marathons about how _hard_ it was to have a god for a boyfriend. Clint looked at a few of the transcripts; the girl had a sharp wit. He could almost hear her eyes rolling through the text.

So when Jane had been ordered to take some time off after 90 consecutive working days (sanity first was apparently a SHIELD rule. Clint thought it showed the most common sense he had ever seen from them) and Thor was in Asgard, Darcy was the one Jane called up.

He tracked them as they gleefully hunted for cheap tickets, hotel deals, and bathing suits. Listening to them talk about bikinis was the most fun he’d had on the job in months. Dr. Foster was a stick, and Clint wasn’t into breakable waifs. Darcy though, from all he had seen, was all hips and red lips with a pair of tits that looked incredible even under bulky sweaters in the chill New Mexico evenings. Listening to her talk about whether she should go with the black polka dot high waisted vintage bikini with the halter top or the tiny red stringy one sent all the blood somewhere distinctly south. Usually targets were targets to him, but this was Foster’s friend, and both Foster and her friend were in Thor’s inner circle. It started out a little bit personal. And he had no objection to getting personal about that chick with the tits, the hips and the lips in a bikini... Later, by himself, in the shower.

This, rather inappropriately, is what was running through Clint’s head as he watched the two girls clutching the seatbacks in front of them, shrieking in panic, as some black suited commandos had POPPED OPEN THE AIRPLANE DOOR WHILE THEY WERE IN FLIGHT. Seriously. What the hell. That was by far the _hardest_ way to get on board an aircraft. Who planned their ops? Clint wanted to know. They needed a punch in the face.

He leaned forward from the seat behind them.

“Don’t look up, Jane, I’m right behind you.”

“Clint?” hisses Jane “Is that you?”

“Yeah, I’ve been tailing you since you left the tower.”

“Oh for Christ sake, did Thor put you up to this? I _told_ him I don’t need a babysitter…”

“Jane,” hissed Darcy, “there are dudes who broke into a plane _while it was flying_ searching the front cabin right now. Do you _really_ think they are here for my nana’s wicked banana bread recipe?”

“You don’t think that this is about _me?_ ” Jane whispered in a harsh tone.

“They are AIM by the look of their weapons,” Clint said from behind them. “And they are known for kidnapping those they can’t recruit peaceably.” He was kind of amused. Girl was _funny_ okay? If you can’t appreciate humor in a crisis, SHIELD was not the place for you. He watched as Darcy raised an eyebrow at Jane. It pretty clearly communicated her strong feeling of ‘how the fuck is this your life now?’

“Shit, those guys are _bad_ guys?” Jane croaked, a little too loud. “Why does no one tell me these things when I turn down lecture invites?” she dropped back to a forced whisper.

“Listen,” said Clint in a no nonsense tone, “we’ve got to get you out of here. They will know you two are travelling together, so your friend isn’t safe either.”

“What do you mean _out of here_?” Darcy whipped viciously over her shoulder. She sounded scared, like she had already processed that there was only one _out_. Smart girl.

“I’ve got high altitude suits and chutes stashed in the back.” He said. “We’re gonna jump.”

“And, putting aside how absolutely bat shit crazy that is,” Darcy squeaked, “How are we supposed to get back there.”

“Ready?” Clint was sure the shit eating grin was audible in his voice. Close quarters fire fight and a high altitude jump? He lived for this shit.

Darcy and Jane shared a look, unbuckled their seatbelts, and nodded.

“When I say, you run as fast as you can for the back.”

They nodded. There was a low _snick_ as he released a catch that hung against his hip, his arm flashed out, whipping a small cylinder towards the front of the plane. A few seconds later, the canister exploded in smoke.

“Go!” Clint yelled, standing up behind them, pulling out his compact bow and covering their escape.

They reached the back galley of the plane, Clint right behind them. He ripped a cabinet open and pulled out three black jumpsuits and what looked like high tech ski goggles.

“As fast as you can ladies” he said, jumping into his own suit, his eyes trained on the hallway.

Darcy was just zipping up her suit as three men, guns first, crept through the smoke near the back of the plane.

With a quiet curse and three quick twangs of his bow, the men fell to the ground.

“They’ll be shooting first when they come next.” He said, slipping the straps of a parachute over his shoulders and buckling it securely. “Chutes on, against the door.” He said.

And then two men, who had used the smoke for cover, came around the other side of the galley, shooting first as predicted.

He heard Jane cry out as a bullet struck her high in the shoulder.

“Jane!” Darcy‘s voice called in a panic, as she launched herself at her friend, pushing them both to the floor. Clint let out a muttered curse, not taking his intense focus away from the threat. Thor was going to smash him into paste. Assuming they got out of here alive, that is.

A series of bullets whipped over the girls’ heads and into the door behind them. With a few cracks and a whoosh, the little window in the back hatch flew outwards, tossing loose items around in the galley. Including, he noted, the two other parachutes which were definitely not strapped to the two girls. Of all the fucking times for the bad guys to have opportune aim.

“Get away from the door” Clint hollered, pushed up against a cabinet, firing arrows with deadly accuracy. “Into the aisle.”

Jane was whimpering beneath her friend, but she started crawling. Clint spared a sideways glace as Darcy pushed and shoved and ootched until Jane was in the aisle. He was desperately glad that she wasn’t the sort of girl to freeze up in a crisis.

He was peering through the rapidly clearing smoke, counting in his head as he surveyed the fallen men. “That’s the last of them,” he hollered down at them, “I’ve got them, we’re safe.”

Clint thought, as he watched Darcy pull herself off the ground, that her shaky smile of relief was really quite charming. And then his eyes went wide in horror. She cocked her head to one side, trying to process his expression, and then there was an incredible cracking noise, and an intense sucking pressure as the door failed and was pulled out of the aircraft, followed closely by Darcy.

Clint didn’t pause, didn’t stop. He sprinted to the door and dove out after her. He had to admit that the girl had an admirable level of common sense for a civilian who had just been sucked out of an aircraft without a parachute. Her arms and legs were spread wide, so Clint, diving with his arms glued close to his body, caught up with her quickly. He could hear her screaming as he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“I’ve got you” he shouted into her ear. “Turn around and _hold on_.”

She awkwardly turned in his grasp, gripping him tightly. He could feel her hitching sobs against his neck. Steeling himself, he pulled the cord and held onto her with everything he had. It was a near thing, but he managed to keep his grip locked as the chute opened and jerked them forcefully as their free fall slowed.

“Okay,” he said in his calmest voice, looking around them, “we’re okay.”

Except they weren’t really, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. He couldn’t do much to direct their trajectory, and he did not like the look of where they were headed.

They came down roughly on a small island. Clint had been able to get a pretty good lay of the land as they descended. Thankfully they didn’t snag on any trees and, aside from a bit of tumbling and a few bruises, neither were much the worse for wear. Clint immediately gathered up the chute, stuffing it carefully into the nearby underbrush.

Darcy was sitting on the ground, arms around her knees. Shit. Clint was no good with scared girls.

“Uh, it’s Darcy right?” he said, approaching cautiously.

She looked up at him, her face was chalk white and tear stained, but she was _smiling_ at him. “Don’t pretend like you don’t have my file memorised, Robin Hood.” She said. “You just really epically saved my life, so no need to worry about a polite introduction.” She stood up slowly and then, to Clint’s increasing surprise, walked up to him, flung her arms around his neck, and hugged him tight. “Thank you” she said as she pulled back, with this kind of intriguing smile, “for saving my life.”

He cracked a grin at her. “It’s funny,” he said, “your file said nothing about your ability to walk away from a near death experience with a smile.”

“Oh was pretty sure I was going to die up there, but I am _alive_.” She threw her arms open and tipped her face up to the sky, “I can see why people sky dive,” she said.

“Ok adrenaline junky,” Clint said, happy to let her ride this adrenaline high long enough to get them moving, “let’s move under cover and see if we can get a call out to the good guys.”

They tramped into the woods a bit. Clint was glad she was the sort to wear sensible tennis shoes and not heels. He hoped her calm was going to hold out long enough for him to get them through this.

+

+

The mood on the helicarrier was tense. After receiving Hawkeye’s distress code, they had received nothing but static for a long few minutes. Finally, they had received a breathless call from Dr. Foster, indicating that she was injured but alright, the pilot was making an emergency landing, and Clint had jumped out of the plane after Darcy.

So a collective breath of relief went around the bridge when a static burst cut through the comms and a garbled “Hawkeye to Big Bird, Hawkeye to Big Bird, do you copy” rang out.

“Hawkeye, this is Big Bird. How’s the holiday going?” Hill responded with a wry smile.

“Pretty girl, tropical island, I’ve had worse.” Clint drawled.

“Sit tight with the package Hawkeye, we can be inbound momentarily.”

“Negative Big Bird.”

“What?”

“You have my signal?” he asked.

Hill looked over to the tracking bank. A young officer nodded up at her with a grave face. “Just pulling it up now, Sir.” He said.

The location blinked on one of the uprights in front of Hill.

“Jesus Christ.” She let out in a huff.

“Yep,” said Clint, “probably why they picked this as the drop spot for Dr. Foster.”

“Can you give us some time? Hole up, we’ll put together an op.”

“Negative Big Bird, I can see three aerial attack sites from where I’m standing. It’s a miracle we made it down safe, probably only because we’re close to the centre of the island. Too risky, especially to pick up an asset and a civilian.”

“Bullshit Hawkeye, if you think…”

“I have a plan.” He cut in. “Prep a rapid extraction. We’ll trek to the coast. When we get there, we’ll stick out our thumbs and hitch a ride.”

“The package gonna make it through that Hawkeye?”

He looked over at Darcy, who was watching the conversation with sharp eyes, mouth pressed tight together. “She’ll make it” he said, “going radio silent.”

“So,” said Darcy tightly, “It’s a miracle we made it down safe?”

“What happened to ‘I’m _alive_ ’?” Clint asked wryly. She just raised an eyebrow, He sighed. “We’re on AIMs R&D island. We always knew it was in this area, but we’d never pinpointed it until now. It’s where they develop and test their weapons tech. That’s why they wanted Jane here.”

“So you’re telling me,” she said crossing her arms, “that we are on an island full of experimental super psycho death booby traps, and we have to get to the coast?”

“Yep,” Clint didn’t see much of a point in sugar coating.

“How far is the coast?” Her voice was remarkably steady.

“Looks like about a day and a half, two days walk from what I saw.” His estimate was conservative. No knowing what her endurance was like.

“And you think you can get us through it?” her tone was challenging, and lord help him he was trying not to look at her cleavage, pushed up under her v-neck t-shirt, arms of her jump suit tied around her narrow waist.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, looking her firmly in the eye.

“Ok.” She said resolutely, “but I swear to you Agent Clint whoever you are, if there are ROUSs in there I am going to be seriously pissed off.”

“It’s Barton,” he said goggling at her a little, “and _what?_ ”

“Rodents of Unusual Size? Fire swamp? The Princess Bride? Nothing? Boy, did you grow up under a rock or something?”

“No,” said Clint with a slow grin and added, “in the circus” just to see the look on her face.

+

+

They trekked north towards the coast for a good six hours in the remaining sunlight. Clint was happy to find out that Darcy was in pretty good shape. The climbing and descending over rough ground certainly didn’t stop her from talking, anyways. And they were making good time. She followed carefully in his steps as he had told her, stopping every so often as he pointed out something that was likely a trigger to avoid.

“So,” she said conversationally, “you think that the AIM guys will find us before we get to the coast or what?” they had stopped for a quick rest while Clint got his bearings from the last glimpse of the sun over the horizon.

“Even odds,” said Clint, “They know the terrain, I’m very good at what I do. And _why_ is it that this doesn’t freak you out again.”

“Would you prefer that I did?” she asked, and for the first time Clint noticed the slight tremor in her hand. “Because I garan-fucking-tee you I could throw a world class freak out right now if it would help, but it sort of seemed like this was more of a situation for shoving down your emotions, following the super cut avenger guy out of the death forest, and seeking professional therapy immediately after I don’t feel like I might die every step I take.” Her voice was verging on hysteria.

“Hey,” he reached out and firmly squeezed her shoulder, “you are doing great kid.” Because she _was_. “Champion level repression going on here, gold medal even, okay?” But Clint knew from experience that it was harder to shove it back down, even when you’d just cracked a little.

“I just need some air,” she gasped, “I can’t breathe.” She twisted away from him, taking two steps as Clint yelled “Darcy _no_.” Her foot came down, there was a low metallic noise of hydraulics, and a little puff of mist hit Darcy square in the face. They both froze, she swung back to look at him with horrified eyes…and then sneezed.

“Ok,” said Clint, not sure if he was trying to keep her or himself calm. “It’s Ok. There are a lot of things it could be. Not all of them are bad, and the fact that you’re not on the ground right now is a really good sign. Just walk back to me Darcy, nice and slow.” He held out a hand to her, and she took three tentative steps towards him and took his hand.

He pulled her in close, feeling an irresistible urge to give her comfort. Her wide, terrified eyes and lips parted in an ‘o’ of fear, were twisting into him somewhere deep down in that way that made him the sort of guy who couldn’t stand by and watch when he saw someone being mistreated, or in danger. Tasha called in a hero complex, but that didn’t stop him from protecting the people that needed it.

He brushed his thumb across the bridge of her nose, but whatever it was had dispersed quickly. He looked closely for abnormal pupil dilation or contraction, but saw none.

“Doesn’t look too bad from here,” he said, with the steadiest grin he could manage. “You feeling different at all.” He took a step back from her.

“No,” she said, in a surprised tone, “I actually feel…kind of good.”

Clint let out a breath of relief. “It was probably a mild stimulant, plants for the AIM agents to use when they need it on long missions, that sort of thing. You,” he said, pointing a finger at her with a wide grin, “are an incredibly lucky girl.”

She let out a shaky sigh, “must be why I’m stuck on this evil deathtrap island.” Her lips quirked up into a wry grin that made him twist in a completely different way that was totally inappropriate to the situation.

“Company’s not so bad,” he shot back at her with a wink, “Now come on, we can probably do another hour or so before we lose the light. Let’s keep moving.”

After about ten minutes of silence from behind him, Clint was starting to get a bit worried. She looked okay every time he looked back, in fact, she looked pretty fucking fantastic. Her jump suit was tied around her waist, the exertion flushing her cheeks, her long hair a bit wild over her shoulders, but she had been talking all day, and now she wasn’t making a sound. Her near miss was bound to sober her a bit, but he really needed her not to freak out again.

After ten minutes more, he began to really worry, because he was hearing these little noises coming from behind him, gasps and low sounds in the back of her throat, like maybe she was trying not to cry, but that wasn’t quite right. Finally, after she let out a very distracting little moan, he stopped and turned to face her.

“Darcy, status report.” His tone was joking but firm. “Gotta know how my team’s doing to make good decisions here. Are you freaking out again?”

“No,” the flush in her cheeks grew hotter, “no it’s not that. I just...I don’t think that spray was an upper, per se…” she was avoiding his gaze, hands twisted in the material of her jump suit at her waist.

He took an anxious step closer, noting with some confusion that she drew herself away, “What’s happening, are you in pain?”

“No no, it’s…uh, it’s totally fine, not going to be a problem, let’s just keep moving.” She spoke quickly, clearly anxious.

“Darcy,” Clint crossed his arms and gave her his best “I’m in charge” glare, “I need to know your status.”

She let out an unhappy little sigh, covering her face with her hands and muttering something unintelligible.

“What was that?” Clint coaxed, not without some amusement, because really, how bad could it be.

“I think that it was some kind of…sex pollen.” She repeated, barely audibly.

“Wh…what?” It was the first time Clint could remember being legitimately floored during an op since aliens had showed up in New York.

She was flushed high on her cheekbones, and he could see that her pupils were dilated. He stepped in to take a closer look and she stepped back from him, letting out a breathy little half sigh, half moan, before biting her lip.

Oh… _Oh_. Oh shit.

“Sorry,” he quickly stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “So you’re feeling…uh…” Clint suddenly felt like an awkward teenager looking at his first pair of tits or something. And it was _not_ that the thought of Darcy and sex in the same sentence was at all unappealing. In fact, it was way _too_ appealing, but this feeling she was having was totally against her will. His anger at AIM and their willingness to treat people like this burned hot.

“Yep,” Darcy broke into his awkward silence, looking at the ground.

“Ok,” he let out a breath, “Ok, could be a hell of a lot worse, right?” he tried lightly.

She snorted, “Says you,” she sounded somewhat bitterly amused, but in control of herself, and that was a good sign.

“So we carry on as planned.” He said firmly, trying to get this mess of a situation back under control. “And we get you out of here as quickly as we can, ok?”

She looked up at him, with those big wide trusting eyes, and nodded. “Ok,” she agreed.

They trekked on for another half hour, and it became increasingly obvious that it was not, in fact, Ok. The little noises she was making were getting more and more frequent and were sounding less and less like fun.

“Clint,” she finally squeaked from behind him. He turned to look at her, and swallowed. The flushed skin of her chest glowed with a thin sheen of sweat. Her lips look bitten and full, her eyes were lust dark and her hair was catching the dying light like a fiery halo. She looked sinful, and he felt his cock twitch at the sight of her.

“You Ok?” he managed in a relatively even voice, because damn him if he was going to get anywhere near her when this was all because of the mad scientists at AIM.

“I…don’t know,” she looked a bit panicked, and he noticed that her left arm at her side was twitching at regular intervals. “Something’s… it _hurts_ ” she hissed, throwing her head back with a whimper as her arm twitched. He could see the line of her neck, muscles tight and bunched.

“Jesus Darcy, you should have…” Clint cast a glance around them. This was as good a place as any to stop for the night, it was high ground and they had just passed a little clearing. “We’re stopping, and I’m going to call in, see if SHIELD can help Ok?”

She nodded, easing herself to sit on a fallen log. Then she bit her lip, “Don’t…I mean if you could try not to tell _everyone_ about this…” she trailed off, looking miserable and vulnerable and Clint wanted to reach out to her, but that would definitely not be helping her situation at all.

“You got it.” He said, pulling out his comm.

“Big Bird, this is Hawkeye calling in,” he turned his back to her, to give her a bit of privacy and also because it was hard not to think, looking at her, about what she was feeling and if maybe she was thinking about him…he shut himself down quickly. He didn’t have any sex pollen excuse.

“Hawkeye, this is Big Bird. What did you fly to the coast?” Hill sounded amused at her own pun.

“Not there yet,” he answered in a clipped tone, “maybe half way. We’ve run into a little problem. I need a secure line to Banner, no surveillance.”

Hill was immediately all business, “We’ve got our med staff and logistics on the line right now Hawkeye, what do you need?”

“Take them off the line Hill. I need a secured and _private_ connection to Banner.”

“Hawkeye, I can’t just let the logistics fly blind on this, we need to know…”

“Banner can inform you if he thinks there are any considerations you need to be aware of,” he snapped impatiently. And then more calmly, “Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it.”

There was a pause, and then “Connecting you to Banner, secured line. Go ahead Hawkeye.”

And the hiss of the helicarrier connection dropped out.

“Clint, I hear your vacation took a little detour,” Bruce’s even voice came over the line. “How can I help you?”

“Not me,” he said, “Foster’s friend, Lewis. We’re trekking through AIMs R+D island. Great vacation spot, a few too many death traps for my taste.”

“I heard, she triggered something? I’m guessing biochemical or physical chemistry based if you wanted me.” Bruce’s efficient science tone was incredibly comforting at the moment.

“Got it in one Doc, she got a face full of something. Didn’t do much at first but it, uh, seems to be some sort of…” Clint couldn’t really believe he was saying this, “sex pollen.”

Bruce didn’t laugh, for which Clint was at first relieved, and then very very concerned.

“General sexual arousal followed by uncontrollable muscle spasms? Is she in any pain?” Bruce’s voice was arrow sharp and focused.

“Uh, yeah,” answered Clint, “how did you...”

Bruce interrupted, “We’ve seen something like it before, at another AIM facility. It is slow acting, but that doesn’t make it any less dangerous. The chemical which causes the arousal response is self-replicating and feeds off the white blood cells that seek to break it down. Unchecked, it will leave anyone affected almost completely unable to focus on anything other than satisfying their sexual urge until…” Bruce paused.

“Until?” Clint questioned anxiously.

Bruce sighed, “The chemical arousal also causes the release of massive amounts of oxytosin. When it starts building up, it causes muscles spasms and pain. It will eventually build to levels where the pulmonary system is compromised and can even cause the muscles of the heart to seize and fail.”

“Oh,” said Clint hollowly, “What’s the timeline Bruce.”

“Left…unchecked, 18 to 24 hours,” Bruce responded.

“Fuck,” Clint couldn’t help himself. And Darcy looked over at him sharply.

“What do you mean ‘unchecked’ Bruce?” Clint demanded, searching for a way out of this mess.

There was a pause, “This is…somewhat uncomfortable,” said Bruce slowly.

“Banner,” Clint cut at him harshly.

“I know, I know. It’s just that…well, the only way to counteract the effects of the chemical is through high doses of endorphins. We’ll be able to clear it out of her system without too much trouble once we can get her into a SHIELD lab, but until then…”

“It’s not like I’m carrying a full set of hypos on me Bruce, how does this help?” Clint pushed.

“Well, endorphins are released in the highest quantities in the human body through orgasm.” Bruce said a little helplessly, “That’s probably the only way to…uh, get her to the extract point.”

“You are shitting me,” said Clint blankly.

“I am not, actually.” Said Bruce, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself, “It’s why it is even an effective tool for AIM. Drop it on a population and they can’t do anything except copulate or die.”

“I’m putting her on the comm,” said Clint shortly, “you tell her.”

“What? No way!” Came Bruce’s immediate response. “Too stressful for me,” Clint could almost see the ironic grin on the older man’s face. And he longed for the days when Bruce was far more circumspect with his anger management issues. “Man up Barton,” he said in a light tone, “and get her out of there safely.” The line died with a click.

“Well?” Came Darcy’s strained voice from behind him as he clipped the com back to his belt.

Clint took a deep breath. “Well, it’s a little bit worse and a little bit better than I expected.”

She looked at him expectantly. Dear god they did not cover this in basic.

“SHIELD has seen the chemical you got sprayed with before. The worse part is that, left untreated, those twitches and muscle pain are going to get a whole hell of a lot worse.”

“How worse?” she asked. And Clint tried to focus on the fear in her voice rather than the way her slim thighs clenched together under the bulky fabric of the jump suit.

“You might not make it worse,” he said, not seeing a point in beating around the bush.

She swallowed heavily. “And the better?”

“It’s actually pretty easy to, uh, treat until we can get you out of here.” He could feel the flush creeping up the back of his neck.

“How?” she asked quickly.

He searched and searched for something clinical and professional, but all that came out was. “You need to come.”

Her mouth dropped open in surprise, her eyes going a bit glassy as she clearly picked up on his meaning. And then her tongue darted out and she licked her lips. Clint didn’t think she was aware what she was doing, or what it was doing to him. He was half cocked in a heartbeat, never more grateful for the jump suits.

“Oh,” she let out a breathless sigh, looking _straight at him_ with the biggest bedroom eyes he had ever seen on a woman, “Do you,” she paused, her breath hitching a bit, and Clint steeled himself to not move closer, to lean in and whisper he _did_ , “mind giving me some…space?”

“Right,” his indecent train of thought stuttered to a halt. “I’ll just,” he awkwardly pointed into the woods. “I’ll be…within earshot if you need anything.” Shit, “I mean, if anything happens.” Nice recovery. Very slick. He berated himself.

Unfortunately, he discovered very shortly, that “within earshot” meant that he could hear her stifled gasps, the rhythmic rustle of fabric. He could see her so clearly in his head, eyes closed, head tipped back, hand working under her panties, her breath speeding, her incredible tits flushed and arching up as she…he heard a low keening cry that was unmistakable. His dick was straining against the fabric of the pants he wore under the jump suit. He started doubling in his head, anything to hold onto himself, to stop himself from pulling out his cock and coming to the thought of her _right now_.

“Clint?” her voice, ragged and relaxed, floated across to him. He steeled himself, willing his body under his own rigid control, and walked back to her.

“You Ok?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says, flushed and supple, still sprawled against the fallen log on the ground.

“Ok,” he said, both of them clearly avoiding talking about what had just happened. “You get some sleep then, we’ll be off at first light. Should make it at some point tomorrow.”

“Is that safe?” she asked, “What if AIM...?”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” he said firmly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But you need to sleep,” she started, concern in her eyes, drowning out some of her lingering embarrassment.

“Gone way longer without it,” he said easily. “I’m not napping when my team’s been compromised, not going to happen Lewis, Ok?” He slips easily into the way he used to reassure kids in his unit on their first tour, and it seems to work for her.

“Yes sir,” she says, tossing him an ironic little salute as she pulled her jump suit up around her and settled on the ground.

It was a very long night.

She fell asleep quickly, which Clint thought would be a blessing really, but the problem was that she started dreaming. And it sounded _good_. Little whimpers and moans escaped her lips as she twisted on the ground, legs pressed together as if desperately seeking friction. Clint resolutely looked away, but he couldn’t stop himself from hearing it. He was getting painfully hard.

And then he heard a little rustling movement, and looked around to find that she had slipped her hand down the front of her jump suit, still asleep, and the rhythmic motions, the way her hips stuttered and pressed into her hand, her parted mouth and breathy gasps made it very clear exactly what she was doing. Clint bit back a groan. She was going to fucking _kill_ him before he got her out of here.

And then, low but clear in the still air, she _said his name_. Clint swallowed convulsively, his hand pressing against his iron hard cock almost without his thinking about it. She was dreaming about him as she was touching herself. By the looks of her, she was about to come with his name on her lips. Clint was pretty sure the chemical she had been dosed with didn’t put that into her head. He cupped himself, hissing at the pressure on his over sensitized flesh, the erection he had been riding on the edge of for hours uncontrollable now.

“Clint…” there it was again. His name on those perfect lips, one of her hands sliding up her stomach to cup her breast, fingers pinching and twisting.

Clint stood up abruptly, turning his head away. Shit, he shouldn’t be watching this. It was such a violation of her privacy and her trust in him. And he needed to get himself under control, because that girl was driving him crazy.

He took a few careful steps into the woods, following the path they had safely picked out in the daylight.

He could still hear her behind him, her breathing picking up, the sounds she was making growing higher in pitch. He couldn’t help himself. He pulled his straining member out of his pants, pre come already beading at the tip. It didn’t take much, just a few frantic stokes really, one hand leaning heavily against a tree, a groan bitten back behind clenched teeth, a hand on his cock that he was wishing was hers and his name on her lips in the air behind him and he came, hips jerking, breath stuttering and his come arching away from him into the forest.

“Clint?” he froze. This wasn’t his name gasped out in passion, this was her awake and lucid. Shit. Had she heard him?

He quickly tucked his softening cock back into his pants, straightened himself up and, walked back to where she lay.

She was sitting up now, still flushed, breathing rapidly.

“You Ok?” he asked cautiously.

“You ask me that a lot.” She said with a lazy little smile.

“Well it’s my job to make sure you get out of here safe.” Said Clint, firmly reminding himself that that meant safe from him as well.

“Well I’m fine,” she said, in a way that sounded a lot like she was more than fine. “I was just worried, I woke up and you weren’t here and I thought I heard you…”

“Just giving you some…uh, space.” Nodding towards her dishevelled appearance. Surely she knew that she had just brought herself to what sounded like a pretty spectacular orgasm.

“Oh,” she said, all her lazy comfort vanishing in an instant. Clint winced, he was really knocking this one out of the park, wasn’t he. “Sorry, I….sorry.” And she looked so pained and vulnerable, that it swept aside some of the burning sexual pull that Clint had been fighting and he dropped down to a crouch next to her.

“Hey, look at me,” he said, and she swung her big brown eyes, swimming in unshed tears, up to look at him. “Don’t apologise, this is not your fault. This isn’t you. I know it and you know it, so we’ll just deal with it, yeah?”

She took a deep and shaky breath. “I just…I feel so out of control. I’m just…scared.”

“Darcy,” he reached out and grabbed her hand, that whole hero complex thing digging at him again, “I promise I’m going to get you out of here.” Then he grinned at her, “and I promise I won’t tell anyone what your O face looks like, Ok?” because if he couldn’t start joking about this, it was going to be a long _hard_ walk to the coast, as it were.

She opened her mouth wide in shock at him before smacking him with a considerable amount of force in the shoulder. “Jerk.” But a hint of a smile was pulling at the corner of her lips. He counted it as a success.

“Come on,” he said, rising and offering her a hand up. “The sun’s coming up, we should get a move on.”

As they moved through the jungle, the ground started getting rockier as they grew closer to the coast, volcanic looking formations pushing through the dense foliage.

“So,” Darcy said as they scrambled down an embankment, “you grew up in the circus?”

Clint grinned at her as he helped her jump down the last bit and they set off forward again.

“Yep, sure did. It’s where I learned to shoot,” he gestured to the compact bow still strung against his back.

“Seems like a bit of a leap from circus to SHIELD,” she commented.

“I guess so,” he said, considering, “never really felt like it to me. I mean, I didn’t want to be making trick shots in purple spandex forever, so the military seemed like most logical place to put my skills to use.”

“And now you make trick shots in black neoprene?” Darcy asked wryly.

He chuckled, “Pretty much.”

“Tell me about the team,” she asked, “You all seem to work together pretty well.”

“Well it wasn’t always…” he paused, “you really want to hear about this? Thor or Jane must have told you…”

“It’s keeping me distracted,” she said briefly, “Plus, Thor’s a little skittish around me ever since I tasered him.”

“You tasered Thor?” He was impressed. Guy was HUGE, and, you know, a god.

“Only the once,” she said a little sheepishly.

So he told her about how he ended up on the Avengers, and he told her about living (at least part of the time) in the Avengers Tower, and he even told her a little bit about some of his older missions with Nat, minus the secured information of course. It was sort of odd. He didn’t really ever talk about him and Nat to other people, especially not beautiful women who he had distinctly naked thoughts about on what was becoming an almost constant basis. But she seemed to get it, how your life could be tied with someone else’s but that didn’t mean they were right for you.

It was only around mid day, but the sky was darkening. As soon as Clint noticed the change, he froze.

“Looks like rain,” Darcy said, her voice already tight with building tension. Clint tried not to think about it.

“There was a small cave a little ways back,” he said, “We might want to wait out the rain because it will be harder to avoid the triggers around here, although they’re getting fewer towards the coast.”

“I’m game if you are,” said Darcy bravely. Good girl. Clint wasn’t sure he would survive seeing her soaked to the skin, her t-shirt sticking to her like glue. But it was a damn sight better than being stuck in a cave with her during a rain shower. Clint had elaborate fantasies that started that way, even before he had thrown himself down onto this god forsaken island.

“Alright Champ,” he said solidly, “let’s keep moving.”

But as the rain started to fall, making soft pings in the foliage, it quickly became clear that moving on was not an option.

“Ow!” cried Darcy. Clint spun around rapidly.

“Wh...” he started to ask a question, but as soon as he felt a raindrop hit his exposed forearm, he knew exactly what was going on.

“Great,” he said, “Acid rain, very clever. Cave it is.” He forcibly turned Darcy around, propelling her forward with a hand on her back, her muscles jumping against his hand and low little gasps escaping her as they hastened back towards the cave. Whether it was from his hand on her or the increasing tempo of the stinging rain, he chose not to consider.

They made it in only a few moments, moving much faster on the tested path behind them than they had been moving forward. Neither were much the worse for wear from the rain. The jumpsuits had protected them from most of it, and the rain had started out slow. Now, after they had tucked themselves in what was really barely big enough to be called a cave, the skies opened up and a deluge fell across the low opening. Clint could see the plant life browning and curling up against the onslaught. There was no making a run for it through that.

They were stuck. In a space barely a meter tall at its highest point and, once they were safely pulled away from the entrance, not much deeper than that. They were both crouched, and he was close enough to feel the body heat radiating off of her at alarming levels and he could see that twitching tension building in her. She was flushed, and studiously avoiding looking in his direction.

Fuck.

He let put is breath in a gust, “How’s my team doin’ there?” he asked gently, not sure he really wanted to hear the response, but knowing he needed to ask anyways.

“Not so good Sarg,” she quipped back, but he could see her wincing against every tick of her muscles, even as her eyes were still dark and dilated and the color high on her cheeks.

“This is probably going to pass quickly,” said Clint, having no idea if it would or not, “My guess is AIM located us and they’re trying to take us out without expending any man power. Once they figure we’re either dead or hiding, they’ll clear it up and send out a team.”

“And this is better how?” Darcy asked, managing to raise an eyebrow at him, which he thought was pretty impressive under the circumstances. He grinned.

“Well I can take care of a measly AIM team pretty quickly sweetheart, just can’t do anything to take care of that,” he gestured at her unspecifically, and then realised what he had just said.

“Shit, I mean, I wouldn’t…not that I don’t, shit, you know what I mean.” Clint ran a hand through his hair, silently cursing himself. The girl was scared and embarrassed enough without him making an ass of himself.

But, and he figured he should stop being surprised by this point, she just grinned at him. “Smooth.”

“Yeah well,” he settled back against the wall of the cave, “I think I missed the Emily post chapter on sex pollen.”

She laughed, bright and cheerful and Clint was really happy to take full credit for it, but then she sucked in her breath sharply, and Clint wasn’t sure whether it was pain or pleasure. Neither were a good sign.

“Why don’t you take a nap,” said Clint, “not going anywhere for a little while anyways.”

“I’m not the one who didn’t sleep last night,” she said, “Gotta have my team in top condition Sarg,” she quirked a little smile at him.

“You know, you’re probably right,” he said. He had been starting to feel the strain of being constantly alert without rest, “Why don’t we both grab a half hour, I can set an alarm. Not likely the rain will clear up before that point, at this rate.”

And that is how he ended up stretched out beside her, not more than a foot away, getting as close to the edge of the cave as he dared while she tucked herself as far back as she could. But it wasn’t far enough. He could hear her little movements as she dropped off to sleep, the faint smell of something floral, still lingering even after a day’s trek, and something deeper and earthier as well.

But Clint was a soldier, and that meant he knew how to grab sleep when he could. It wasn’t more than five minutes before he dropped off.

He woke up before his alarm, the rain still pelting down outside, his back chilled where it faced the opening. The front of him, however, was warm, hot even, pressed firmly against the planes and curves of Darcy’s back. He wasn’t sure if he had rolled towards her or she to him, but she was definitely still asleep. And not peacefully.

He could feel the pull and tension all through her, her legs where they twined with his, her back where it pressed into his chest, her shoulders twitching and jumping in the soft light. She was making small gasping noises that were definitely more pain than pleasure now, which was probably what woke him. Her breathing was shallow, and it made Clint remember what Bruce had said about compromising the pulmonary system. He propped himself up on an elbow, looking down at her, at the tension in her face. His other hand fell to her hip, and she twitched, pushing her hip against his hand, her eyes flying open, pupils blown.

“Clint,” she was _looking_ at him, his name on her lips in that low breathy tone from the night before, except this time, she was here, and present, and he was sure she could feel him, growing hard against her where the curve of her ass fit against his hips like a puzzle piece.

“Darcy, I…” he started, he didn’t know what he was going to say.

“Clint _please,_ ” she looked up at him, her right hand guiding his lower on her hip, shaking like a leaf.

“Darcy, I can’t…it’s not…” all of the very good reasons that him moving his hand anywhere closer to the centre of her was a bad idea seemed to escape him as her small frame pressed against him, the taut skin of her belly fluttering under his fingers.

“You _have_ to,” she breathed, holding out her shaking, twitching, uncoordinated hand as proof, “Please Clint, it _hurts_.”

“Shit,” he pressed his face against the back of her neck, and even that contact caused her to exhale a moan that made his cock jump against her. He lay against the ground, his left arm curving around her shoulders holding her steady, his right inching with trepidation towards the waistband of her leggings underneath the jumpsuit. “Shit, I am going straight to hell for this,” he murmured against the salt sweat of her skin.

“No,” she breathed back to him and then “ _yes_ ” as he slipped his fingers under her leggings and panties, slipping lower through the trimmed hair until a finger slipped between her folds and she cried out.

“Fuck” a muttered curse left him, unable to stop himself from pressing his rock hard erection into her ass. She was soaking wet. She rolled her hips back against him, drawing out a long groan.

He pressed two fingers against her swollen clit, and she bucked against his hand. Christ there was no way she was going to last long at this rate. He slipped his hand lower, pressing a curved finger into her, his mouth pressed hot against the column of her neck, his own breath speeding to match her as she canted her hips against his hand, her inner walls clamping down around his finger.

He pressed her hips back against his, teeth marking her skin, as he added a second finger into her wet heat, pressing into her again and again the meat of his palm hitting her clit each time as he rocked his hips against her ass in time with the thrust of his hand.

When she came, he held her firm, his arm underneath her curving across her chest, his hand strong on her pelvis as his fingers worked her through her orgasm. She shouted his name as she arced against him, and Clint thought of the first time he had picked up a bow, that same feeling of fit and tension, as she settled back, twitching from the after effects rather than the chemicals in her system now.

He couldn’t bring himself to move away, even as he slowly pulled his hand up so his fingers rested splayed across her stomach. He was painfully hard, the muscles in his thighs rigid as he held himself back from pressing into her, so close to finishing.

And then her hand, stilled and controlled now, slid back over her hip and between their bodies, cupping his erection through the layers of clothing.

“Darcy,” he groaned, trying to protest.

“Hush,” she said in a low voice, turning over to face him, “I need my team in working order,” her eyes were wide and shining in the dim light, cheeks flushed, but looking at him with desire and intention. And then her hand found the zipper in his pants beneath the jumpsuit and he lost all ability to protest, throwing his head back and gasping as her fingers finally found the sensitive flesh of his cock.

It wasn’t the best angle, and she clearly wasn’t the most experienced woman who had had her hands on him, but Clint liked the idea of that just fine, because he was pretty sure that this was going in his top ten list of sexual experiences, even if he would probably hate himself for it afterwards.

She bit at her lower lip, like she was concentrating on a difficult puzzle as her hand worked him up and down, her thumb flicking over the head of his cock, spreading his pre come. He thrust up against her hand to meet her motions, hissing as her lips tentatively pressed against his throat, and then started teasing and sucking lightly against the skin.

And then he stuttered hard against her hand, once, twice, three times and with a guttural noise low in his throat, he came in her hand, his ejaculate coating her fingers in sticky ribbons.

They stayed like that for a little while, knowing that breaking this moment was going to lead to all sorts of awkward. Eventually, she gently pulled her hand away and, practical little thing, started _licking her goddam fingers_.

“Jesus _Christ_ Darcy,” he groaned as he righted his clothes.

“Sorry,” she grinned at him, unrepentant as she pulled herself to seated, crossing her legs, “But I didn’t bring any kleenex, did you?”

“No,” he sighed, sitting up, “Didn’t really expect to be taking advantage of anyone on this assignment.” He let his head drop into his hands, a wave a shame washing over him. He couldn’t believe that had just happened. He was supposed to be protecting her, not using her drugged up state to get a quick handie. Jesus.

“Hey,” she pulled at his hand, forcing him to lift his head, “There was no advantage taken, ok? I was right there with you.”

“Darcy, you shouldn’t even _be_ in this position. This isn’t…I mean if it wasn’t for that...sex pollen, I really hate calling it that…” Clint was starting to ramble, he could hear himself.

“I saw you, you know,” Darcy interrupted, ducking her head a bit, “In the airport. And you know what I thought? I thought ‘damn I hope that guy is headed where we’re headed’.” She smiled at him a little sheepishly.

“That doesn’t mean that I should…” Clint started, but she was a stubborn girl, he was finding out.

“Stop it,” she said firmly, taking his hand and squeezing it, “Yes, this is really bizarre and awkward situation. But I’m glad it’s you, Ok?” She looked more embarrassed over admitting that than she had about licking his come of her fingers. Could be love. Clint gave his head a shake. Jesus, where had that come from.

“Ok,” It still didn’t feel right to him, but Clint thought at least part of that was he would have liked to know that she wanted him for more than just a convenient body in the circumstances. He found himself wondering if she would have gone on a date with him, if he asked, and whether she would have let him walk her home and kiss her goodnight, all sex pollen aside.

“The rain has stopped,” she said after the moment had drawn out.

“Shit, we gotta go,” Clint immediately gathered up his quiver and bow, stringing the weapon and readying an arrow.

“What?” Darcy looked panicked.

“They’re probably sending a team towards us,” he said quickly, “Go time soldier,” he said with a tight grin, “We’re going to make a beeline for the coast. Not more than an hour away now, less if we run. Right behind me, no straying and keep an eye out behind you, got it?”

“Got it Sarg,” she said. She sounded scared, but her voice didn’t waver.

“Thatta girl,” he said, helping her scramble out of the cave, “let’s move.”

They made it within sight of the water before the first shots whizzed out through the forest.

“Down!” Clint called out, whipping off two arrows in the direction of the shots. Darcy threw herself to the ground without hesitation, as he’d known she would, and the arrows went flying past her. Clint heard two distinct thuds letting him know his arrows had found their marks. It was almost comical, really, how visible the AIM team was in the woods. The foliage let him see their movements clearly, and they kept trying to advance on him, even as he picked them off cleanly, one by one.

It only took a few minutes before there was no further movement in the trees, and Clint hurried up to Darcy.

“All clear,” he said, helping her to her feet, “Nice dive.” He smiled at her as he started brushing the dirt from her clothes. His eyes narrowed in concern as she gasped and twitched under his hand.

“Already?” he asked her, taking a step back to give her some distance.

She nodded shakily, “It’s getting worse,” she said.

“Almost out of here,” he reassured her, pulling out his com. “Going to call a cab right now.”

Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be that easy. Clint didn’t know why he was surprised.

The helicarier had been surveying the island, and it looked like a heavily armed team was being scrambled to be sent to their location. They needed to take out the central island facility and all the reinforcements first, or the mobile units would get to Clint and Darcy before they could muster and execute the extraction.

He clipped the comm back on his belt with a curse.

“No cab?” she said dryly.

“They’ve got a few angry bad guys to pick off first,” he said, “and then we’re getting out of here. They put it at an hour tops. We’ll be ok, you’re gonna be ok, right?” He looked at her questioningly.

She bit her lip, looking down. And he knew right there that, no matter what she was about to say, she wasn’t going to be Ok. Not for an hour. He could already see her muscles twitching and tensing and her breathing was becoming shallower.

“Shit.” He said before she could answer, and then before he could second guess himself, he took her by the shoulders and crushed his mouth against hers, tasting her lips like he’d been thinking about since this whole operation began.

She opened up under him almost immediately, her lips parting, pressing hungrily into his mouth, teeth clacking and no gentle reserve about it. One hand snaked around the back of his head, pulling him against her hard while the other clutched at his hip, pressing the length of her body against him.

He backed her up against a tree, checking first for any trigger, because this was no time to get sloppy.

“Fuck Darcy,” he moaned as she arched into him, her fingernails just this side of painful in his hair, “Stop me, you should stop me. I shouldn’t be...”

“Shut _up_ ,” she growled at him harshly, drawing his lower lip between her teeth, one leg wrapping behind him, hitching her hips closer.

Clint groaned, his internal monologue running at full tilt. She obviously wanted this, but how much of that was just the drugs, and how much was really _her_? But could he really afford to just let her suffer until their extraction showed up? And what about after, when...

And then she made a frustrated noise at him, bit down sharply at the joint of his neck and shoulder and snaked a hand down his jump suit, finding his erection with a firm hand. After that, the internal monologue pretty much shut down.

He gasped sharply into her mouth, her teeth on his neck and her nails on his scalp riding just on the right side of pleasure / pain. He hastily pulled at the arms of her jumpsuit tied across her waist, shoving it down past her hips. He got distracted on the way back up, his hands squeezing the firm weight of her ass as she cried out, her hips pressing into him, the bulky fabric of his jump suit pressing into the seam of her leggings.

One hand still firmly cupped under her ass, the muscles of his arms taut as he pressed her up against him, his other hand skated up her ribs, brushing across one peaked nipple causing her to cry out. He bent his mouth to her neck with a singular focus, pulling at her pale flesh, worrying and soothing in turn, as she panted into his hair.

“Clint,” her voice was low with want, “not that I don’t normally appreciate foreplay, and what you’re doing with your mouth right now is _seriously_ awesome, but there is a time and a place. This,” she said, one hand working down the front of his pants and circling his hard cock, “is not that time.”

He wanted to grin, because god _damn_ this girl… but it was sort of hard with her mouth pressed into his and her tongue flicking across the roof of his mouth in a way that made his knees want to buckle. Of course that could have had something to do with the way her thumb was rubbing across the slit of his cock.

He growled from somewhere low in his gut, somewhat reluctantly dropping her ass, one hand clutching roughly at her breast, the other scrambling to untie her jumpsuit from her waist and shove it along with her legging and panties down past her hips. His hand cupped her cunt and she cried out, shaking against him as he slipped a finger between her soaking lips.

He helped her as she tried to push his jumpsuit and pants aside with shaky hands. She pressed towards him, her hips jerking, seeking friction. He let out a frustrated noise, unsurprisingly pressed up against a tree wasn’t actually an ideal angle. He sometimes was really glad his job kept him in great shape. This was one of those times, as he hoisted her up, hands digging into her hips, and drove into her tight wet heat, pressing her against the tree, looking up at her as he bottomed out.

She was incredible, one arm clutching his shoulder, the other wrapped around the trunk of the tree, her head thrown back, mouth open, eyes closed as she called his name.

He felt like he could have just stayed there forever, but she started pressing against his shoulder, pulling herself up by the trunk of the tree and thrusting against him. He was momentarily impressed by her upper body strength and then her inner walls clenched around him and he forgot to think about anything else. He slipped an arm under her ass, pressed the other one down, finding her slick clit, and pounded into her in earnest. His head fell against her shoulder, breathing harsh, teeth scraping across any skin he could find as he relentlessly sought release for both of them.

It wasn’t long before her rhythm became shaky a sporadic, and her felt her inner walls fluttering. She cried out her release, bucking and rolling wildly against him. One, two, three more thrusts and he spent himself. He could hear their breathing overlapping and falling in and out of synch in the quiet forest as he slowly let her sink to the ground.

Clint was not a man who lost control often, and this was the third time in less than two days that this woman had driven him past his limits.

And then, as rational thought returned to him, he registered that she had been beyond the limits of her control almost since they first landed here, but it wasn’t exactly _him_ that had driven her there. A wave of shame hit him so hard he almost gasped from the shock of it.

She looked up at him and smiled this shy little smile and all he could do was turn away. What had he been thinking? This woman, barely past a girl really, who it had been his _job_ to protect and he had run into the situation dick first. Great move Barton, real professional.

“Clint?” she approached him, concern in her eyes, as she put a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged her off gently, but before she could say anything more, the distinct sound of a helicopter split the stillness and he abruptly pushed her back under the cover of the canopy until he could confirm who’s side the incoming chopper was on.

He let out a breath of relief as he saw the SHIELD insignia on the side of the helicopter as it approached over the water. He cupped his hand around her ear to speak to her over the rising noise. “When I say go, you run directly for the door, keep your head down. I’m right behind you.”

She nodded at him with a worried smile and gave him a sharp salute.

As the chopper levelled out just a few feet above the rocky beach, he shouted at her “go!” and gave her a little shove. She managed a pretty good pace over the few hundred meters between the tree line and the chopper, and Clint followed close behind, not relaxing until a helmeted SHIELD agent grabbed her arms and hauled her into the open chopper and he had flung himself in behind her.

Once he saw her safely strapped in, he immediately approached the cockpit, picking up a spare headset partially to check in with the helicarrier, but mostly to avoid her eyes, which he could almost feel on the back of his neck.

“Nice to have you back Hawkeye,” said a smooth feminine voice once he had put on the headset and dropped into the empty co-pilot seat.

“Pretty fancy flying there Tasha,” he greeted his partner.

“How’s the package,” he saw her eyes cut sideways towards him as she asked.

“Is Banner on board?” he asked rather than answering.

“He’s on standby on deck,” she replied, a hint of concern in her voice, “He’s being very secretive about why.”

“Good.” Was all Clint had to say.

It was only five minutes or so to reach the helicarrier, which had descended low in order to pick them up. He could feel the rush of air as they exited the chopper, indicating that it was rising back to altitude.

Bruce, as promised, was on deck, rushing up to Darcy the minute she stepped out of the chopper, looking a little shaky already.

“Darcy Lewis?” Clint heard him shout over the wind.

She nodded, looking over at him as if for help. He just nodded at her. This was Banner’s show now. He needed a shower, probably a stiff drink.

“I’m Dr. Bruce Banner,” he said, extending a hand with his most reassuring smile. “Let’s get you into the med ward and back to normal, hey?”

Darcy shook his hand with obvious relief and followed him. She looked back at him once as she was hustled inside. She looked sort of sad.

Clint was going to need the whole bottle.

Unfortunately, it turned out that a debrief was more important. His first stop was tech where he ran through every piece of AIM R&D he could recall. He informed them firmly that the function of the chemical in the triggered aerosol diffuser that had hit Darcy was strictly need to know and they could take it up with Fury later.

As he walked towards a small conference room for a full mission debrief, he felt his steps get heavier. He didn’t want to have to tell anyone about this. Not only for his own sake, but for Darcy’s. The chemical was already tech known to SHIELD, Darcy wasn’t an asset, they didn’t need it for her psych profile. He didn’t want it on his. But orders were orders, and Clint might be a lot of things, but he was not the sort to lie to a superior officer just to save his own ass.

He knocked smartly on the door, determined to see this thing through, take the consequences he deserved. He was surprised when Natasha’s voice told him to enter.

“What happened to the debrief?” he asked. They were usually full room affairs, with Fury, Hill and whoever was on their roster this week looking on.

“This is it,” said Natasha, “just me. No recordings.”

Clint sat down across from her, just raising an eyebrow.

“Bruce talked to Fury,” she said, her voice totally neutral. Clint tensed.

“He didn’t say much, but the message was clearly relayed that a public debrief might be quite harmful to Miss Lewis.”

“You could say that.” Clint agreed cautiously.

“Fury, and this is a direct quote, didn’t want to know anything about anyone’s goddam personal business unless he needed to.” The faint hint of a grin ticked at the corner of her mouth.

“So no debrief?” Clint asked hopefully.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, “He’s respecting civilian rights to confidentiality Clint, not going soft. I’m debriefing, and then I’ll pass on a report that contains the details that are pertinent for SHIELD records. Nothing more.”

“Oh,” said Clint. He wasn’t particularly sure he wanted Tasha to know about all of this, but Fury had been right to send her. That was the thing about being partners; you didn’t get to make things easier on them, to hold anything back, or to hide things that made you ashamed. So he would tell her everything.

At first, it was easy, like any other debrief, when things went FUBAR on the flight and he had jumped out after Darcy, that was normal. Or what passed for normal in his life. He tried to stay detached, clinical as he described how Darcy had been hit with the AIM chemical, and its after effects. About his conversation with Bruce, and getting stuck in the cave. About his stupid, asshole decision to fuck her up against a tree. That was pretty hard to get through, but he pushed on. Tasha’s impassive face helped. She just listed carefully until he got to the point where they made the chopper. She knew the rest.

There was a long silence.

“You _like_ her,” said Tasha, a little bit gleefully.

“What? Tasha, that is hardly the point here. I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t press assault charges.”

Natasha snorted, “yeah right, I would wager a month’s salary that she’ll be knocking on your door first thing when she gets out of the med ward.”

“Tasha, I took advantage of a civilian who was under the influence of a chemical weapon. You aren’t taking this seriously.”

“Would you like me to yell at you?” she asked, “because I can.”

“How are you so twisted that you think this is Ok?” he asked.

“Because I know a bit more about women than you do Barton.” She said with a smug grin, “yeah, the girl was chemically horny, but based on your own narrative and Banner’s chemistry, it’s not like she lost control of her logical processes. By my count, you saved her life in that cave and _after_ she was closer to normal, she made a reasoned decision to get you off. She also made a reasoned decision to really enjoy getting nailed up against a tree rather than kneeing you in the crotch and taking care of it herself. Give her a little credit, she seems like the type who would be more than capable. You had an advantage Clint, sure. But no more than most guys do in a bar after midnight. Get over yourself, get down to the med ward, and let her make you feel better.”

“You know I’d never take a drunk girl home,” was all he said, but he felt a little bit lighter. And she had been pretty enthusiastic about the whole thing, with her incredible…no. Not the time.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Boy scout.” She got up and walked around the table, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“Look,” she said, her tone serious, “I honestly don’t think you’ve stepped out of line. You know I’d tell you if you had. And Clint,” she smiled at him, “the way you talk about her. I don’t know if I’ve heard it from you before. Don’t ruin that for yourself before you give it a chance, Ok?”

He found himself sitting there for quite some time after Natasha had left him. He stood up eventually, stretching against the stiffness in her muscles. He fully intended to head back to his quarters, have a hot shower, and collapse into bed, but instead he found himself in the med ward.

Darcy was lying there, looking flushed and healthy, her dark hair splayed against the white pillow. Sleeping quietly. Bruce was checking the levels on something that looked like a dialysis machine next to the bed, dark red blood filling to tubes which ran from the machine and into Darcy’s arm.

“She going to be Ok doc?” Clint asked in as neutral a tone as he could manage.

Bruce looked up at him with a smile. “Hey Clint, glad to see you back safe. And yes, she’s going to be just fine. You saved the girl again. Why do you always get to be the one to do that?” Bruce joked.

Clint managed a weak smile. Bruce, being a pretty observant guy, gestured Clint to the chair next to Darcy’s bed.

“We’re cycling the chemical out of her blood and keeping her sedated while we do, so that she doesn’t have to consciously suffer the effects anymore. You got her here just in time. The levels were getting very dangerously concentrated. Whatever you had to do Clint, it kept her alive.”

“Doesn’t feel like much of an excuse.” Said Clint tiredly.

“If it helps, she was asking about you. She wanted to make sure you were Ok right up until we put her under.” Bruce added.

“She’s a good kid,” said Clint, in a way that sounded a lot like “I’m a bad guy” to his own ears.

“You’re a good man, Clint.” Said Bruce, putting a hand on his shoulder. It was rare for the older man to reach out physically, even to the team, so Clint appreciated the gesture, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with the words.

“You’ll keep an eye on her for a bit?” Bruce asked him.

Clint just nodded, not looking up at him as he left the room.

It was soothing, just watching her breath, her chest rise and fall, nothing dangerous around her. And because he hadn’t really slept in three days, and because he felt safe and comfortable around her in a fundamental way that he didn’t much want to analyse right now, he fell asleep.

+

+

He woke with a start, but that was pretty common. Flashes of blood and pain and fear lingering in his bones. A warm hand was circled around his forearm, which was less common. He sat up in his chair, looking into Darcy’s wide and concerned eyes.

“All there Sarg?” she asked softly.

“Present and accounted for,” he responded with something between a smile and a wince as he rolled his neck, stiff and sore from falling asleep in a chair. “How’re you feeling?” he asked.

“Pretty great actually,” she said, releasing his hand and tucking her hair behind her ear, “Bruce tells me that while they kept me sedated they were running a low level of endorphins through my system as they cleaned out the chemicals. I feel like I’ve been on vacation for a month. I highly recommend it.” She smiled at him, but it was a bit of a nervous smile. The guilt stabbed at him and he couldn’t keep quiet.

“I’m so sorry Darcy,” he let out in a rush, “If you want to press charges, or take a free shot, whatever I can do. I feel terrible.”

She looked genuinely startled, “press charges? Clint, what are you talking about?”

“You were drugged Darcy, you were drugged and I took advantage. I should have had better control. I should never have...”

“Clint,” she interrupted, “You are a huge idiot.”

“Wha...?” he gaped at her. She looked _mad._

“Do you really think that I get a little hot under the collar and suddenly throw myself at the closest warm body? You really think I wasn’t capable of kicking you really hard somewhere very painful if you were doing anything I didn’t want? Do you really think so little of me as all that?” Her words were eerily echoing Natasha’s and Clint absently wondered what was up with the fact that all of the women in his life tended to be kind of violent.

“No!’ he exclaimed hurriedly, “of course not, I just...It’s just that you didn’t really have much of a choice...and”

“Clint,” yep, definitely angry, “I _did_ make a choice. And I chose you. And I was planning to apologise to _you_ for putting you in that situation and letting you off any kind of hook becauseI know that it was just one of those things, but now...Well, you’re still off the hook. I know you’re not really _interested_ , but I’m not going to apologise.” She was actually sticking out her lower lip in a way that should have made her look petulant but really just made Clint want to kiss her. For the first time since getting off that goddam island, Clint felt a stab of something that was suspiciously like hope.

“What if I don’t want to be let off the hook?” He asked her slowly, knowing that he probably had exactly one chance to do this right or she was _actually_ going to kick him in the balls.

“What?” Darcy looked at him suspiciously, which he supposed he had earned. He took a deep breath.

“Darcy, if none of this had happened, if you and Jane had gone on your vacation and come home safely, I had this half baked plan.” He paused, trying to do this right. “I was going to suggest to Jane that she bring you out to drinks with the team one night. And if you came, I was going to sit next to you, and I would have moved just a little too close, because you are impossible to stay away from.” He smiled a little, getting wrapped up in his own story.

“I would have tried to make you laugh, but you probably would have laughed at me rather than my jokes. And when you wanted to leave, I would have walked you home, partially because it’s not safe out there, but mostly just to get some time alone with you. I would have taken you to your door, and I would have asked you for your number. And I would have called you the next day, even though I would have tried to wait at least two. I would have taken you out for dinner, and kissed you outside your door. I wouldn’t have asked to come in until after three dates, and wouldn’t have asked to stay for three more. But then, if you were willing, I would have taken you to your bed, and undressed you, and taken my time. I would have made you scream my name without any chemical help, because god help me I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as beautiful as your face when you come apart in my arms.”

He was breathing hard, like he had run a marathon, much closer to her than when he started, as if she had drawn him in like a magnet. Her mouth was open, her chest rising and falling rapidly, the color high on her cheekbones.

“Clint...” she breathed out in a low wondering tone. And he moved closer, almost groaning out loud as she licked her lips.

“Barton.” Hill’s voice was sharp at the door. “We’re over the eastern seaboard. You’re needed back at HQ. Wheels up in 10. Ms. Lewis, we’re going to arrange for you to get home safely. I’ll send someone for you when your ride is ready.” She gave Clint a hard look and turned to leave.

“Shit.” Clint couldn’t help but say it out loud.

“Yeah,” Darcy echoed. “So...” she paused, “It’s been a slice?”

He grinned at her, “No one I’d rather be stranded on a death trap island with.”

“I guess...I guess I’ll see you around...” she trailed off uncertainly.

“Darcy,” he said, leaning forward to grab her hand, “I promise that you will.”

+

+

It had been a week. A week on a high priority op in Bogota. Clint thought that Darcy would probably be settling back into real life, while he hid out in the ass end of nowhere just waiting to make a shot. He had a lot of time to think about her. To work out how he felt and what he wanted to do. He didn’t know what she’d be thinking, not hearing from him for so long. He had tried. Tried to explain to her the pull he felt towards her, to let her know he wanted a chance to do this thing right, but there was just never time in his life.  And a week without hearing a word from him, and hearing nothing from Shield past a stone faced agent showing up at her door with a really serious confidentiality agreement, she would have every right to give up on him.

Clint had seriously limited experience in this sort of thing. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had many women. He wasn’t Stark or anything, but he knew his blue eyes, a little flexing and a war story could get him a partner for a while, someone to keep the loneliness at bay. But never for more than a few weeks at a time, never let them get far enough into his life that anything important was at stake. He knew how to do that.

But Darcy... He wanted to take care of her. He wanted her around to make him feel that warm glow when she smiled at him. He wanted to let her get far enough into his life that _everything_ was at stake. He wanted to hang on past a few weeks and see where it went. It had been a really long time he’d felt anything close to that. The last time was in the middle of a firefight in Budapest and Natasha had ended up an indelible mark on his life.

So he was trying to make a gesture when he slipped into her tenth floor apartment through the window with take out from a Thai place he knew she liked from memorizing her file before the op.

It was possible, he thought as he froze in the kitchen when the sound of a key struggling in a sticky lock came from the door, that his job had made him a little unbalanced when it came to relationships. The door opened with a bang and in the reflection from the microwave, Clint saw Darcy freeze, looking around suspiciously. He had turned the heat on for her. He should have thought that she’d be on edge and would actually notice something like that. He watched as she reached into her bag, digging until she found her taser and her cell phone.

“Whoever you are,” she shouted, “I am calling the cops and I’m armed.”

Clint let out a resigned sigh “You know,” he called out to her, deciding that walking out of the kitchen was probably not a great idea while she had her taser out, “If I really was a burglar, I probably wouldn’t have turned on the heat.”

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?” her voice was high and strained. Clint felt like a huge jackass.

He stepped out of her kitchen, hands raised in surrender. “I was trying to surprise you,” he said sheepishly, “But you came home early.”

“Oh,” she said shortly, lowering her taser and closing her phone. “So you were trying to surprise me by breaking into my house? Mission accomplished Sarg.” Her sarcastic tone was a bit cold, but he could hardly blame her.

“I was going more for leaving you take-out and a note” he said, lowering his arms as she thankfully wasn’t so mad that he still counted as a taserable threat.

“And what _exactly_ was this note going to say?” she asked, crossing her arms and giving him a hard look.

“Uh,” Clint pulled out a piece of folder paper from one of his pockets, the other hand self consciously rubbing at the back of his neck. “Here,” he walked towards her and passed it over. “Although it seems a bit...stupid now that you’re standing here. I am really terrible at this.”

He watched her, anxious and embarrassed and hopeful like a prom date. He may be one badass super spy in a rough situation, but taking about feelings to a girl? Super awkward. Who thinks breaking in to a girl’s apartment after blowing her off for a week is a good idea? How did he possibly come up with that plan and think it was _normal_. He should have talked to Tasha first.

She unfolded the note.

_Darcy,_

_I’ve been somewhere that I can’t tell you about for a week, and I couldn’t tell you that I’d left. I’m sorry for disappearing on you, and I’m sorry for breaking in to your apartment. I just had to let you know that I think about you, all the time, every day._

_Will you let me start this over again?_

_Clint_

He had left his phone number for her as well.

He watched her read it, mentally cringing. The damn thing had taken him about ten drafts before he was happy with it. And now he felt like an incredible idiot for putting those words down on paper. Although he couldn’t decide if he should have played it cooler or said more.

She stood silent for a long while, after her eyes had finished scanning back and forth over the paper. He could imagine the thoughts running through her head. Did she want this? A man who was probably never going to be fully open with her, who _couldn’t?_ Who was liable to disappear for weeks at a time without warning, who probably threw himself out of airplanes to rescue people with alarming frequency? She certainly deserved better.

She raised an eyebrow at him, a corner of her mouth ticking up as if she was smothering a smile. “Four sentences and a phone number? Took you a week to come up with that?”

“I said I was terrible at this.” He said with a self deprecating shrug, “I will completely understand if you want to kick me out and tell me never to come back.”

He paused, “only...only, don’t. Please.”

He took a plaintive little step towards her, withering a little at his tone. What was it about this girl that reduced him to this? He felt for a moment he thought would like to give back all the _feelings_ that had reduced him to an awkward teenager.

And then he immediately changed his mind as Darcy smiled at him, full and bright, “I was only giving you a hard time. Someone’s got to keep you in line Sarg.”

“You mean?” he didn’t quite know what she meant, but he was feeling pretty hopeful. That smile of hers could drive a lot of awkward out of the room in a really big hurry.

“I mean.” She agreed firmly. “Seems like it’d be an awful waste not to give it a try anyways,” she moved closer to him, “I mean, what a great story it’d be for the grandchildren, right? Not everyone gets a ‘how did you guys meet’ story as awesome as sex pollen.”

“Darcy,” Clint cut her off with a wide grin, “shut up.” He slid one hand into her hair, the other resting gently on her hips and he leaned into her, kissing her slow and soft. Something full of promise.

She looked a little dazed as he pulled away. “So,” she said her voice shaking, “We’re starting over?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, pressing another kiss to the side of her neck and bringing his forehead to rest against hers.

“Then you might as well know from the start that I’m absolutely hopeless for you and thinking you didn’t want to see me again for a week was pretty much worse than trudging through the death forest for two days.” Her eyes as she looked up at him were wide and vulnerable, but her hands at his waist were sure and strong. Something low down and necessary in Clint thrilled at it.

“Hey,” he said brushing her hair behind her ear, “I’m never just gonna walk out on you like that, ok? You’re still my team, Darcy.” He smiled, “Leave no man behind.”

“You know,” she said with a wicked grin, “you really seem to like giving orders.”

“I’m pretty good at taking them too,” he responded evenly, even though that mouth of hers was making his mind go to some interesting places.

“Oh yeah?” she leaned in close to his ear, “Soldier,” her voice was low but filled with authority in a way that made Clint think that maybe her mind had gone _exactly_ the same place as his, “If you don’t have me up against a wall and screaming your name in the next 30 seconds, there’ll be hell to pay.”

He had a strong suspicion that wherever this whole thing took them, it was going to be a whole lot of fun.

“Yes _sir_.”

 


End file.
